The A Team
by Liams.spoon
Summary: Niall Horan story. The boys are in Toronto. Rated M for darkness. One Direction story. I do not own anything or anyone.


It's fucking freezing. I don't know how people here can deal with this. It's just fucking _cold_.

I was thinking very bitter thoughts, walking down the sidewalk in downtown Toronto, surrounded by the boys and Paul trailing behind. Like I said, it was god damn cold so not many people were out and about. Especially not at 6:30 in the morning.

"Niall quit your whining," groaned Zayn. I gave him the look of death, which was probably about as scary as a puppy dog face, but I tried.

"Where are we going anyways?" I complained. We'd been walking for nearly twenty minutes, and my hands were beginning to freeze in my jacket pockets.

"To Starbucks, and then to rehearsal for tonight, mate. I told you all this last night," sighed Liam. He was grumpy this morning. I mumbled nothing and shrugged my shoulders.

"I think the Starbucks I saw last night was just across the park right there," Harry pointed out, steering us in the direction of the more than slightly frozen over park.

As we walked, we didn't really talk. Paul was on the lookout for crazy obsessed fans, Harry was looking for his damn Starbucks, Liam and Louis were texting or tweeting or something that had to do with their blackberry's, and Zayn was looking around at the park. There was a small bench in the distance, and a small lump of something black on it. Probably a garbage bag or something. Toronto wasn't exactly the cleanest city on earth. As we got closer to the bench though, I realized it wasn't a trash bag or a random black thing, it was actually a person.

I felt a pang in my heart, like I do every time I see a homeless person on the streets anywhere we go. I feel a little bad because I have this amazing life, and I can afford anything for my family and friends, and then there's this person who's probably had a terrible life, and have nothing left.

I exchanged a look with Zayn, realizing he'd seen the person too. The bench wasn't too far off to the side of the path, so we walked quickly ahead and towards the bench. I was about to speak, to wake up the person, but my voice got caught in my throat. It wasn't just a _person_, it was a girl. Our age, or maybe younger. She had dark chestnut hair that probably went down half of her back. Her eyes were closed, but I guessed they were probably brown. She was really pale, and her lips were slightly blue. Zayn and I were only a foot or two away now.

I stopped at the bench, and knelt down near the girls head. She seemed so small. "Erm, excuse me, miss?" asked Zayn. His voice was still a little raspy from this morning.

The girls eyes shot open to quickly I stumbled back and fell on my butt. I would've been embarrassed, but she seemed just as shocked and scared as I'd been. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face, and pulling her black jacket tighter around her form.

"I'm- I'm sorry, I'll just move. I didn't mean to be in the way," she said quickly. Her voice was rough, like she hadn't had a drink in a while, but otherwise it was lovely.

I held out my hands in a reassuring gesture, "No, it's ok. We just wanted to make sure you were alright, or something," I said sheepishly. By now, the other boys and Paul had reached us, but they stayed back a little.

She looked a little lost in the conversation, "You're not Canadian. Where are you from?" she accused. Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm from Ireland, and the rest of the lads are from the UK," I told her.

She looked from face to face, probably wondering if she could trust us or not. "Oh." Was all she said. For some reason, I'd expected her to say more. Then she continued after a moment, "Well, I'm fine, so you guys can go,"

She didn't sound so convincing. "Why are you out here? It's freezing," said Zayn. Always the most aware person on the planet. You don't just ask people why they're sleeping on a park bench, god Zayn.

She hesitated, "Oh, I uh, I just fell asleep I guess," she obviously lied.

I gave her a hard look, and she looked back at me, her eyes so lost and confused and … tired. They were Hazel, I forgot to mention. More blue-ish than anything. "You don't have to tell us anything, we just want to make sure you're absolutely OK,"

She nodded. "I'm ok. I had a bad night… at home. I went for a walk and I guess I fell asleep on this bench." The way she said 'at home' was weird. It sounded like an excuse that a kid would make up to get out of class 'Oh, I have an erm, doctor's appointment.'

I gave her a questioning look. She looked away from me, and to the rest of the boys, before returning her gaze back to mine. "I'm ok," she reassured, though she didn't sound too sure of herself.

"Would you like to come get a coffee and something to eat? My treat," I offered the girl. She looked startled. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kidnap you," I joked. She cracked the tiniest smile I've ever seen. She stood up, and was just as tiny as she'd looked on the bench. Maybe 5'4 at the max.

I hadn't really had time to look at what she was wearing, but now that she'd stood up I could see she was wearing a black trench coat like coat that went almost to her knees, black boots that looked pretty warm, black gloves, and dark jeans.

"Is it ok with your friends?" she whispered to me.

"Well, they don't really have a choice," I replied, putting my hand on the small of her back as we began to walk.

On the short walk to the Starbucks, I learnt her name was Jayce, she's 17, and doesn't go to uni or college. She learnt that my name was Niall, I'm from a small town in Ireland, and I'm 18. I kept out the 'I'm 1/5 of the world's hottest boyband' part.

As we walked in the coffee shop, we ordered, and I had to practically beg Jayce to get something to eat. Even with her coat on she looked so skinny. As we waited for the barista to heat up her sandwich or whatever she'd gotten, the boys had sat at a table.

We turned to sit with them, but found out they'd filled an entire table. We opted for a table for two near them. I was actually kind of glad. I wanted to talk and find out the real reason she'd been sleeping on the bench. It's not like I thought she was lying, I just didn't think she was telling the whole truth.

"So…" she said as we sat. I took off her coat and placed it on the back of her chair like a gentleman would, before sitting down as well.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to know the real reason you were sleeping in a park last night," I said quietly, not wanting the others to overhear.

She picked at her food before taking a small bite, contemplating what she was going to say, "I ran away," she decided on finally.

"Why?" I didn't even have to think about it before I asked.

"I live at this orphanage downtown. It's nice and all, but… I don't even know. I'm just stupid." She laughed at herself quietly.

"From what I know, you're not stupid. I bet they're probably looking for you, yenno,"

She laughed for real this time, "I'd bet you anything they're not,"

I was flabbergasted. "Why on earth would they not be looking for you?"

"They really actually don't care what I do. I've been there since I was seven, and nobody's adopted me. Who would want to adopt the daughter of a murdered family? Who knows how messed up she might turn out?" she chuckled darkly, not looking me in the eyes.

I couldn't move. My coffee was getting cold in its cup, but even the thought of cold coffee couldn't make me move a muscle. "That's terrible," was all I could manage.

She shrugged. "They're right though, I am messed up. Sometimes, I actually think people start to care, but then they don't. How messed up is that?" she asked, finally looking up.

I couldn't believe that this girl, sitting in front of me, this beautiful girl, could think that way.

"Yeah, you're most likely to leave, tell me to call you if I ever need to talk to someone, and then I'll never hear from you again. It's happened before, I know the drill," she said casually. She pushed the unfinished food and drink away from herself, and sighed.

I shook my head, still unable to answer.

"You might think that you're something different, but you're just the same as everybody else," she snarled.

I was finally able to break out of my trance. "I'm not just going to leave you here, in the middle of Toronto, thinking that running away is going to solve your problems!" I growled back. Why was I suddenly so angry at her? She sunk back, and my expression suddenly softened. I reached a hand out across the table, but she pulled back even further. I've never felt so far from someone I don't even know before. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I got so angry,"

"Because everyone gets angry at me. It's nothing new." She said quietly. "I always do something to tick people off. That's why they leave when they actually start to care," she told me as she stood up. She began to pull on her jacket to leave, but I spoke quickly,

"Wait! I'm not like those other people. I care. I'm going to give you my number, and you can call me whenever you want. I may not be in the same country, or the same time zone, but I'm here, and I'm going to care no matter what you do, ok?" I told her, scribbling my personal number and my name down on the napkin beside me. I stood up and shoved the napkin into her hand, and she looked up to me.

"T-Thank you," she stumbled before shoving it in her jacket pocket and running out the door.

It's been two months, and Jayce still hadn't called. I hopped she went back to the orphanage, but I could only hope. We were back home, and I was in Ireland for the week. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about her, and worrying if she was OK. Even the boys really noticed. They always reassured me that I did everything I could to help her, and that they were proud of me for it, but I couldn't help like feeling I hadn't done enough. Maybe I could've done something else, like take her back to the orphanage, or given her some money to get herself some food, or _something_.

I hadn't been sleeping well since then. It was constantly Jayce and wondering where she was, what she was doing. Was she safe? Was she OK? Was she warm? Was she home at the orphanage?

I had no way of finding out.

I rolled over in my bed restlessly, like I'd been doing for two months. I was half asleep, and half awake. My brain wouldn't shut up! It was fucking annoying. At least I was on a break, and not on tour or something. But still!

My phone shrieked in my ear. Well, not really shrieked. In other words, my phone rang, and I let out a long undertone of swears which I shouldn't even know. It was nearly three in the morning and someone was fucking calling me on my personal mobile? _Seriously_.

I picked it up and pressed the green answer button, opening with a jolly "If this is Louis, Harry, Liam or Zayn I am going to kick your sorry asses over the fucking rainbow into my neighbours pot of gold."

There was an awkward cough on the other end of the line. "Um, hello. Is this, erm… Niall?" Shit. Of course it wasn't one of the boys. What the fuck is wrong with me? On the plus though, if it had been, that would've been one for the record books of best three a.m. call threats. I had an entire list of them.

"Erm, yeah, it's Niall. Who is this?" I asked, sitting up.

"It's Gary Newman, of the Toronto PD. I'm calling because we found your number written on a napkin in the pocket of a … erm, victim,"

Victim? What? "Excuse me?" I said aloud.

"Your phone number and name were found in the jacket pocket of a girl who committed suicide a few hours ago." He said rather bluntly.

"What was her name?" I choked. Please don't be Jayce. Please don't be Jayce.

"Erm, Allison Jacks," he probably read off of an ID card.

I nearly sighed in relief, when I remembered that my name and number had been found in a girl's pocket who'd committed suicide.

"I'm not sure what my number was doing in her pocket, the only girl I'd given my number to was a girl named Jayce," I admitted. Wow, I probably just sounded like a douche. Nope, I definitely sounded like a douche. "That's not what I meant!" I said quickly, "I meant that I gave her my number so that she could call me if she needed to talk or something. God, I still sound like a douche," I face palmed myself, thinking of how stupid I'd just sounded.

"Well, her drivers license says her middle name is Jayce, spelt J-A-Y-C-E," He said.

I could practically feel my brain processing this information, and my mouth was moving quicker than my brain, "What did she look like?" I demanded.

"Middle length dark brown hair, hazel eyes, Pale, about 5'5 in height. Maybe 110 pounds," he described Jayce perfectly.

"That's Jayce, that's her," I murmured, more to myself then to the officer.

"How did you know Miss Jacks?" he asked suddenly.

"I um, I was walking in the park two months ago with my mates, and she was sleeping on one of the benches. I went up to her to make sure she was ok and we ended up going to the nearest Starbucks and talking. She'd run away from the orphanage where she lived, and I gave her my phone number before she left so she could call me if she needed to talk," I rambled. I couldn't believe she was…. She wasn't alright. No, she was dead. I couldn't believe it. No, I just couldn't.

"Is that all, Niall?" he asked. He sounded more professional now. He was probably writing this stuff down. "And what's your last name? I'm going to need to use this information in the official report,"

I didn't even hesitate, "Horan. Niall Horan,"

"As in Niall Horan. _The_ Niall Horan of One Direction? I have a fifteen year old daughter, and she's crazy about you guys," he rambled.

"Yes, _the_ Niall Horan." I sighed. I was getting a terrible headache, and I wanted to cry. I could feel the stinging in the back of my eyes, which meant I was only minutes away from a complete breakdown.

"Well, thank you Mr. Horan for the information. My number is 212-5748 if you'd like to call to ask any questions. Is there anything else before I let you go?" he asked.

I scribbled down the number; I wanted to know how the investigation would go. "Yes, um, How did she uh… how did she do it?" I asked nervously. I regretted asking the second I did. I didn't want to know. But if I didn't, I'd go insane.

There was an inhalation of breath, before the officer spoke, "Over dose,"

"Thank you," I whispered before hanging up.

_They say she's in the class A team,_

_stuck in her daydream,_

_been this way since 18 _


End file.
